


Interesting...

by TempleVevHelm (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Exploration, Freeform, I'm not good at tagging things, M/M, Species exploration, azog not being a dickwad, curious azog, mention of aborted Non-Con, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TempleVevHelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly different spin on Azog's thoughts of Bilbo, canon-diverent one-shot where Azog had captured Bilbo. However, instead of immediately hurting him, Azog gets confused about the Hobbit's strange, soft body and begins to explore. Slight sexual themes. All in the perspective of a very curious Azog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interesting...

Azog studied the small creature he had taken. It was visibly soft and warm; it had hair which was curled, but still matted and familiar, like warg fur. The tiny thing’s body was round and plump, like a bloated injury in all places but with no painful discoloration or winces. It bled from no orifice which Azog could see… It was truly an odd creature. Elves and dwarves he could understand as beings which could temper the storms and bloodshed of the valleys and mountains like Azog’s own clans, but… This… Thing, the “Hobbit”, they had called the thing… It was… Rather… Interesting. 

Azog had dragged the creature away into his own tent. He had been considering using it as a bed slave, but slowed himself when he noticed its odd appearance. Azog paused in the removal of the cloths of his lions and armor, and instead, simply looked. Then touched.

It was soft, as he expected, in an unexpected and nearly surreal way... In the heat of battle, all foes felt soft as they cleaved under the force of his weapons—of his claws and swords and strength, but simply touching one of those foes he would know that they were not actually physically soft. Dwarrows more so than elves, perhaps, but elves had health and longevity which could outlive the dwarrows’ if dealt fatal wounds. 

This creature, Hobbit, was soft at his simple touch. Azog felt the injury-like lumps, and they receded slightly to the sides of his claws when he pressed his fingers in. Slight discoloration like blue rivers of blood became clearer as he pressed harder, not hard like he would an associate who had wronged him, but as an orc would touch nothing, for orcs did not touch lightly, except for now. 

Azog, with gentleness and patience which would later on surprise him, dipped and pressed and felt the Hobbit’s skin, sometimes feeling fat, other time bone, or muscle or fur or the soft rush of blood struggling slightly to squeeze through the pressure of his fingertips. Azog squeezed at the Hobbit’s supple midsection, jiggling the tiny thing’s belly and rubbing circles into its cheeks. Its eyes were wide and confused, its brows had a slight crease, but it was no longer shaking. Tense, yes, but not shaking. 

Azog held the Hobbit’s fingers up to his face and squinted. Five fingers on each hand, no missing fingers or infected stubs or loose nails. There was the familiar scent of dirt and blood under those nails, but the nails themselves were not bleeding. 

Indeed, the blood of many of Azog’s associates were splattered over the creature, but no true discoloration was to be found save for odd brown spots on raised flesh, so small they could’ve been dirt specks if not for the fact that the Hobbit tried to wriggle away when Azog attempted to pluck one off. It bled sluggishly and the Hobbit began to shake again. 

Azog leant down and licked at the new wound, curious of this odd raised-flesh-speck which was so prominent across the Hobbit that Azog was sure there was no place without one. After licking the wound until it stopped bleeding, Azog turned the Hobbit over as he looked at how many there were. He attempted to count after a while, but got lost in all the odd formations—did they have meaning? Was it actually dirt under the Hobbit’s skin? Was it a Hobbit ritual to cut open their skin and insert pieces of earth and rock into their flesh? Did the formations mean anything? Such as their rank or their clan name? 

Azog was so interested, this creature was so interesting! So odd and exotic with rituals and fur and injuries which weren’t injuries…

Azog licked another lazy stripe against the Hobbit’s jaw, tasting blood and dirt and grease with wonder. The Hobbit attempted finally to twist away and Azog held it down and looked down upon it. It wriggled self-consciously and looked away. Azog, with a smile full of teeth and metal and fire, breathed into the Hobbit. He grazed his teeth over one of the specks, and ran his large hand over the Hobbit's bumps, ready to spend the rest of the night figuring out what odd secrets the body of this creature held.


End file.
